Handloads.Com Forum
Handloads.Com | Forum Home | Active Topics | Register | Log In | FAQ



Posts: 12  [ Displaying: 1 to 12 ]

Please visit the new forum to start a new thread

Handloads.Com ForumGeneral DiscussionCharlie and Thunderdome...
This is totally unrelated to hunting/shooting but falls within the realm of Gen Discussion. And it was rather humorous as well. Hope I can get the images and thoughts across...

OPENING SCENE:
Went to the hospital a few times a few months ago for hernia repair and gall bladder removal. Doc said I'd suffered enough, and I concurred after putting up with it for two years or so. First trip was to the hospital for tests to determine just how decrepit I was. No big deal. The pre-admit. No big deal.

SCENE 2 act 1:

Next is an appointment with a gastrointerologist. If you're not familiar, perhaps "butt-hole doctor" will strike a chord. Nice guy, seemed professional. Thorough exam, and course of action determined. Due to impending surgery I received an COLONOSCOPY. For the medically challenged, a Greyhound bus tour of your bowell. Under the influence of wonderful drugs. Mind bending drugs. Trust me on this. Do the drugs... Got the briefing about what to expect, and the yuk you drink to "clean" your system. Oh sweet Jesus! What horrible stuff it is! I will never eat a strawberry again.

SCENE 2, act 2

Went home and began chugging this horrid gallon of evil. Label says 1-4 hours for results. Count on it.

SCENE 3, act 1

I have a cat named Charlie who was salvaged as a kitten from a mid Georgia dumpster. He is of the opinion that he is in fact a dog. Eats anything including steamed broccoli. A big bruiser, 44" long when stretched out on the bed, a coat so black and shiney he reminds me of a mink when he's out on the porch in the sun. The luster is amazing. He follows me everywhere in the house. Does not like to be picked up, just near. Pick him up and you will bleed. Faster than your mind can grasp.

SCENE 3, act 2

3-4 hours passed. The wife is at work, and medical science is about to work its magic. Charlie, in his loyal way, follows me to battle stations. Just to be near. The door is open of course. The spectacle is one only appreciated by those who have been there, but trust me fellows, it is SPECTACULAR! It is THUNDEROUS! It is very thorough. Sir Charles, never being slow in the decision making process, is but a memory and I'm alone for the moment as the echos fade in distant valleys.

And I'm left in solitude by my loyal companion for the second thru eight visit to the bunker. Perhaps it is just as well, for things were about to take a serious turn for the worse.

SCENE 4, act 1

It is the next day, and I'm first on deck at the hospital. Remember those wonderful drugs I mentioned? They are administered now. They were calming, wonderful and before I slipped away I found that I did love all mankind, and understood the pain of the Jews, the Palestinians, the Kurds and certainly the fans of the Floida Gators football team.

SCENE 4, act 2

Awakened and groggy I regained my bearings quickly I thought. I was soon released and my lovely wife took me home, fed me ice cream and put me to bed. My faithful friend Charlie hopped upon the bed, curled by my waist and we slept. I was still in touch with the pain others felt but it was fading. The Democrats were the first to fall off my list as I recall.

INTERMISSION:

Here's what they don't tell you guys. Before they drive that bus through the place that knows no light, they need to open their horizons so to speak. I don't know if they use a schrade valve or a tire gauge, but they fill you with nitrogen. A lot of it apparently. I was never told, there was no way to realize what the future held. No way to spare the psyche of my trusted friend.

SCENE 5, final act.

Hey, the doctors didn't get through med school by being total idiots. Why would they face death when they knew with calculating certainty that I would do so without them? They are cold and heartless.

I awakened but still felt groggy. Charlie raised his big black head and gazed at me with emerald green eyes. He is intensely feline in all of his movements, a minature black panther lost in the world of his natural prey. His eyes close, all features of his face gone, only a cat silohette in obsidian. I reached to scratch his head, felt the threat of a small, very minor impending act of venting. I was not afraid. I did not know what the bus had left behind. As my fingers touched his head it happened. So many things occurred so fast it is hard to track them in a single time line.

Perhaps you've known guys who were not only notorious for it, but quite proud of their flatulence. Swillers of beer, eaters of popcorn, kielbasa, kraut, broccoli. Guys you could hang with, and laugh with, but who never quite got to meet mom. They break wind at very inopportune moments, like when you just saw the woman of your dreams sit at the table next to yours at the sports bar. A creature so lovely that HE will never know her. Neither will you. They make noises that sound painful, sounds that ricochett off of varnished hardwood chairs. They laugh at your ill tempered response while you wonder if life in the big house would be worth the act you desperately want to commit. You all know them right? They are of no talent, no capacity, and have no strength such as I displayed in that brief fraction of a second when by all measure about 250 cubic feet of highly compressed nitrogen was released. Along with minor contaminants I'm certain.

Remember Charlie? My loyal friend? The one suddenly sitting bolt upright, eyes the size of saucers? Sure you do. Hair fluffed up and right foreleg extended as if to ward off evil spirits, he turned to look into my eyes, lips curled as if gagging. His mind snapped and he bolted again. The ancient instincts reborn, the jungle cat reflexes in complete tune. The incredible leap of 12', a lightning arc of blackness that ended in full stride flight. I did not raise a fool. No sirree Bob, not me. He landed on glistening tile yet lost no traction, the speed only accelerating as muscle and sinew fought for survival. All creatures know their limits, this was a battle he could not win. Around the corner into the kitchen, solid wall between him and death. Safe at last.

But you know cats. Curiosity and all that. Moments passed, the monster NOT on his rear. The cautious return, the small black nose at the corner sniffing, the nose turning into mouth and then emerald eyes afire, ears laid back. Way, way back. Eyes...well, big. The expression of repugnance, shock and dismay. Perhaps a newfound respect? You may recall that he eats broccoli too. And in the subtle way of animal expression, a statement as vague as the Mona Lisa's smile: Sorta like, "You're pushin' your luck Cpt. Kirk..." Of course, he's just a cat. But now he sleeps at my feet.
Does anyone know where the love of God goes, when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
Oh my, that one has me in tears Max
John

We’ll raise up our glasses against evil forces, singing; whiskey for my men, beer for my horses

Molon Labe!
Did you ever consider a career in writing?
God Bless
Terry
Max, stop! You're killing me!!
Good Shooting,
Chuck in the Bluegrass
Glad you enjoyed it. Writing... well, the older I get the more I do, but I doubt I have developed the skill for the long haul. Must say however that I enjoy a story told well, and that is the nut of it on any day. I still chuckle over tales told by local ledgends during smokey, alcohol hazed nights spent in the Fla. Keys. Sublime masters of the art, each and every one. It's a lot like fly fishing in still water, so many ways to make the presentation but only one that really works...
Does anyone know where the love of God goes, when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
Oh mygod please stop I think I am going to be sick I have laughed so much. The hell of it is my wife who likes a joke as much as anyone didn't even crack a smile. Something about no fart humor with that woman. Oh well I enjoyed the laugh anyway. I still can't breath right. Wes
 
Max,

My co-workers walk by and look at me funny as I was pointing at the computer screen and laughing. Great story, hope you, and the cat both recover well. And Terry is right, you're a good writer/story teller.

Johnny
Thank you Max. As a cat person, and the friend of a large tiger(sorta like Morris) I thououghly enjoyed the story.

Buddy Little
 
Max, Max, Max....... I don't quite know how to respond to ........ I just can't stop flat out laughing...... I'd like your permission to copy your adventure.......still laughing........and pass it around, names excluded of course (maybe I'll put the company's owners name in place of yours?). That is very close to the funniest story I've ever read!! Thanks!

Oh, hope you're feeling better!!
I don’t have obsessions - I like to think of it as being highly focused.
Max1
I´m laughing so i´m not sure how i´m going to get up from the floor.
Your´re an artist!!!
 
Oh, the fun one can have after age 50!

I hosted a "bus tour" once, but didn't enjoy the aftermath as much as you did...
 
Hi Jimmy, good to see you here.

Copy, alter, wallpaper, have at it guys! Thanks again!
Does anyone know where the love of God goes, when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
Handloads.Com ForumGeneral DiscussionCharlie and Thunderdome...


Please visit the new forum to start a new thread

Posts: 12  [ Displaying: 1 to 12 ]


Forum Stats
1,129 members posted 19,382 messages in 2,272 threads / 9 topics / 3 categories.
User Name
Password
 
 Auto log in? (requires cookies)
Please welcome our newest member : Jamesfromjersey
There are currently 885 guests and 0 members on the boards.
BK Forum v.3.0 © 2001 - 2014 Black Knight Development. All Right Reserved.